Dream On
by gluon
Summary: Will and Rachel wake one morning from dreams about each other.  It's after Sectionals, on a warm spring day.  What could happen?
1. Will's Dreams

Author's notes: The Rachel Berry in my Rachel-Will stories is not the same person as depicted in _Glee_ (at least as of 1/1/11). She's not a virgin, having had a long sexual affair with Finn and/or sex at summer theater camps (referred to in one story as a "cesspool of sexual depravity" but probably no worse than many Baptist church camps). As a result, she's confident, self-possessed, not in the least insecure, and well aware of her talent, looks, and brains. She has a higher IQ and more talent than Will, and is his psychological equal. She is always the aggressor, and he is the more vulnerable in the relationship.

To see an affair between a high school girl and a teacher depicted realistically and seriously in a movie, watch not _Election_, but _The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, _featuring one of the greatest characterizations in cinematic history by the wonderful Maggie Smith, who won an Oscar for the eponymous role.

…

It's very early on a late spring Saturday morning when Will Schuester wakes up. But he doesn't wake up as he normally does, drowsily seeping out of his slumber, rather it's with a start, shaken awake by a dream, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. He usually forgot his dreams quickly, not able to recall them after only a minute even if he tried. On this one, however, he focuses hard immediately, trying to etch it into his long-term memory. It's not that it's a hot sex dream, he's had many of those, it's that it's the first one involving a certain Miss Rachel Berry. He had dreamt of Rachel on many previous occasions, usually involving some to do about glee, but never like this. He was lying naked, supine on a blanket on a tropical beach. No one else was about. "Will," said a lovely, sultry unmistakable voice. He turned to the sound, which came from a gorgeous, naked, rose-nippled, smiling Rachel, standing above him.

"May I join you?"

"Yes."

She lay on top of him, reached down to take him inside her, and he put his hands on her ass to pull her as close as possible to him. Her soft warmth against his body was indescribable. [_i.e., the author is not a sufficiently competent writer to adequately describe it._] It was at that hallucinatory moment that our hero woke up. [_Tough shit, gentle reader, that's how dreams work._]

Will Schuester was an educated man, and understood that dreams don't necessarily _mean_ anything, that they are just random jumbles roiling around in the subconscious. Nevertheless, the truth was he did consciously think about his underage student far too much, she did know and care more about the things that interested him than anyone else he knew, she really was brilliant, her talent really was genuinely huge, and her mouth definitely did need to be kissed hard and often.

Before he can get out of bed, however, Will Schuester has an issue to deal with. You see, as most men near his age, i.e., between about 13 and 63, he usually woke up with an erect penis. This particular morning was not only no exception, but the dream had caused such a heated swelling and aching throughout his groin that measures had to be taken. Will then began to consult his rolodex of sexual fantasies to see who might be available to provide sorely needed relief.

First up, old reliable, virgin 15-year-old Terri on the couch of her parents' finished basement. Kissing, groping, wet finger, wet nipple, unzipping, squeezing, stroking - no use. Terri was clearly not going to do the trick on this cloudless morning.

Okay, Emma then - still a virgin and sweet as cotton candy. She comes to his apartment in a French maid's outfit, carrying a caddy of disinfectants, scrubbing compounds, steel wool and rubber gloves. She bends over to work on a particularly troublesome spot on the floor and Will seizes his chance and mounts her from behind. In and out, back and forth, heavy breathing – still nothing.

On to the taboo, dirty, dirty stuff that he tries to avoid unless desperate because, as a morally upright man, he feels so guilty afterward. He finds one that has worked recently, school slut Santana and her dear, dear friend, the very flexible dancer Brittany. Threesome! Oh the combinations, oh the permutations! Will imagines this, Will imagines that, but sorry, not today. Take a rain check. [_Fuck you, gentle reader, NO BRITTANA-SCHUE PORN FOR YOU_!]

The ache has increased with the diameters of his testicles. There remains a sole recourse, the originator of the problem, the one he absolutely and resolutely has tried to avoid: Rachel Berry. He heads back to the dream, has her say, "Oh god, _come_ with me Will, _please_," and he does immediately, as simple as that, enduring a cumdrop rain in the aftermath.

Shit, shower, shave, cologne, dress, bagel, and he's ready for the weekend. But what to do?

_Maybe I'll check out some sheet music for a glee number_. _Groman's Music has the best selection._ _Oh, that isn't where Rachel met Jesse, is it? Well, you never know_.

If Rachel does happen to go there today, on this Saturday of all Saturdays, _mirabile dictu_, _she_ might claim coincidence, but _he _bloody well better not try.


	2. Rachel's Dreams

Rachel Berry woke up early on a late spring Saturday morning with a broad smile on her face. She always did after a dream in which Will Schuester had been making love to her, or even just kissing her gently or holding her hand. Passionate sex was the order of the day that morning, on a tropical beach somewhere, when he came up to her lying naked in the moonlight and fucked her. A rapidly approaching orgasm disturbed her nocturnal equilibrium and she jerked into unwelcome consciousness.

_Thank you Will. That was sweet. _In her secret life he was "Will," a term she never used aloud in public. She understood full well how dangerous any real liaison with her would be to him. If caught it would destroy him utterly and she could never live with herself if she had played a role in that. His life was teaching and his students, and the end of his career in education would be devastating, not just to him, but to a generation of students for whom he was a light in the wilderness of Sylvester, Figgins, Tanaka and Ryerson. Her crush on him of many months ago was a very short-lived insanity which she deeply regretted and vowed never to repeat with him or any other teacher. She also remembered that when she was sane, calculating and determined she had in fact seduced men a lot older than she, the naïve notions of Finn, Puck, Jesse and Mr. Schue notwithstanding. There was a secret Rachel Berry, and Rachel didn't want that one messing up her carefully crafted Lima persona.

Sticking to her morning routine, Rachel hit the elliptical for twenty minutes. Sweating, she headed for the shower, but felt a presence somewhere between her lower abdomen and upper thighs. _Oh yeah, that_. She stripped, lay in bed with her legs apart, mentally recreated the scene in the auditorium with Finn, had him last long enough to slide his hand under her panties and stroke her inside and out into the orgasm which she finished with her own real hand. _If he only knew what he had missed._

Coming out of the shower, Rachel put on a set of new sexy thin satin underwear, because it felt right for such a glorious spring morning, covering it with a light, low-cut, short cotton dress. She put her hair up just for the change, but also to show off her neck and to look her mental age of twenty, twirled around in front of her full-length mirror to test the panties-exposing potential of her new mini-dress while singing a few verses of _I Feel Pretty_, and went downstairs to make breakfast for her family.

After she helped her dads rinse and stack the dishes, she returned to her bedroom to put on some makeup and a deep red lipstick. Then she closed her eyes and fantasized about what would happen if she met a new boy today and they went for a walk in the park and he kissed her and touched her breast. She did it to herself, first cupping her breast then rubbing a finger lightly over a nipple to find out what he might feel when he touched her and how it might be for her. She was delighted at how much the satin bra would enhance the feel of a peaked nipple for both a would be lover and herself. _Well then, what do satin panties do for a pussy?_ She pressed her hand against her crotch, first through her dress, then underneath, where a slight damp heat was already evident. _God, I could come doing this._ _Finn or Puck could get me off in a minute. Jesse in five, but for all his ridiculous boasting, I might have to show him how. Will would just have to look at me. Oh, this is so silly. I'm not meeting anyone today. I'm just going to check out some scores at Groman's._


	3. Rachel's Drive

Rachel packed a picnic basket lunch of cucumber sandwiches, an apple, red grapes, and a power drink in a cold pack, got in her Accord and drove to grandmother's house in the woods, sorry, I mean _Groman's Music_ near downtown Lima. The wolf that lay in wait for her that day had no big teeth, had not devoured granny whole, but was in fact the original Rachel Berry, over which the faking-it Rachel Berry had only tenuous control and had to constantly struggle to keep at bay.

Rachel was in a good mood, a very good mood indeed, initiated by that early morning's extra-passionate love-making provided by her ephemeral beau, Will Schuester. While her unconscious had summoned him to bring her near climax, her conscious would not allow such an inappropriate relationship, so it resorted to the more socially acceptable imagined fingers of Finn Hudson to finish the job. Such was the bifurcated life of Rachel Berry. There was no multiple-personality syndrome, no schizophrenia, just an invention mothered by the necessity of a very complicated girl needing to cope with her very complicated world.

In some sense, Rachel's situation wasn't even that unusual, as countless married gay men and long-term cheating spouses could attest. One simply accommodates to the immediate environment, which can sometimes change from second to second. One speaks to a lover on the bedroom phone, then comes downstairs to hug the spouse and kiss the children. It's so easy. But one does have to remember this golden rule: no proper names when you come, just a generic "Oh, darling." Mistakes can be costly.

Rachel's first allegiance, of course, was to her two gay dads, or "the kike and the dyke" as they fondly teased themselves. They were, in fact, highly educated, well-travelled and well-read men, who wanted everything for their darling Rachel, and brought her up from the very beginning to be as knowledgeable, smart and talented as possible. They took her with them everywhere, talked to her about everything, and gave her every freedom to explore and mature. They stayed in Lima to care for aging parents, so McKinley High had to serve as Rachel's purgatory, where she toughened for her future.

For the past several summers, Rachel had attended musical theater camps, where prodigies in every genre from across the country assembled to compete for leading roles and the sexual favors of each other and very predatory twenty-somethings. Rachel was no exception, and her sneaky hotness was the object of many obscure desires. Without going into too much detail, let's just say Rachel gave as good as she got. Imagine, then, the contrast with her situation at William McKinley High School, populated mainly by bozos and barbarians. There were exceptions of course, such as the sweet and gorgeous Finn Hudson, and the sexy and dangerous Noah Puckerman, whom she vowed never to fuck lest she become another notch on his bedpost. And then there was Will Schuester. She had slept with men not that much younger than he, but few as truly talented, and none as worthy. She wished she could have told him that.

She parked the Accord at around 11 am, changed into her open-toed heels, did a few giddy spins to check her balance, and entered the store. She felt good, she thought she looked good, the staff loved her, and she loved her secret lover Will for making the start of her day so good. She was on top of the world.


	4. Will's Drive

Author's Note: In this chapter, I wrote: "First came the voice. Over and above the great technical ability, it had a satiny sheen that couldn't be taught and gave a glowing cover to the intensity of the passion underneath." To see what I mean, search YouTube for "GLEE Music Box Theatre - Maybe This Time Part 6" and "GLEE Music Box Theatre - Funny Girl Part 5"

...

Wearing his youngest looking clothes - jeans, tight dark blue tee and sneakers - Will got into his 170,000 mile subcompact and drove to _Groman's_, with Rachel Berry much more on his mind than usual. What if she _is_ there, what would he do, what would he say? Although he'd known her for almost nine months, and sometimes worked very closely with her in preparing glee numbers, he felt there was some mystery about her, that what he observed of her didn't quite add up to a coherent whole.

The sex dream had clearly rattled him a little. He was in no position to argue that it wasn't a fair representation of his subconscious, but he didn't want it intruding on reality. Infatuation with his 16-year old student wasn't healthy, if only because it distracted from forming a serious relationship with a mature, intelligent, sane and available woman, a type absent from his current life and, when he came to think about it, from all of his past as well. Then there were the minor issues of possible jail time and the end of his teaching career.

To be considered an "available" woman, however, requires mutual interest, and although at least half the straight female faculty at McKinley and tons of women who glanced his way at the supermarket and elsewhere would have slept with him in a heartbeat, he either didn't know them or had no good reason to want to. Rachel was another matter, and therein lay the problem.

First came the voice. Over and above the great technical ability, it had a satiny sheen that couldn't be taught and gave a glowing cover to the intensity of the passion underneath. The soft heat of her sound could chill his spine and had nearly brought him to tears on more than one occasion. She wasn't pretty enough ever to be a romantic lead on TV or in the movies, but a leading role in a major Broadway musical was certainly within reach. She was that good.

Second came the smarts. Her creativity, vocabulary, extensive literary and musical knowledge were what one might expect from a sophomore at Julliard or Yale Drama, not at McKinley High. A few times when they were alone and had drifted off onto non-glee topics, Will became uncomfortable with his own feelings and ultimately broke off the conversation on some pretext or other. It's at this point when he thought about her that he became confused, for he couldn't reconcile this musical and intellectual prodigy with the anime schoolgirl outfits, the liaisons with the academically retarded Finn, the emotionally and psychologically retarded Puck, the prancing prick Jesse, along with the propensity for tearful outbursts and other immature drama queen behavior, and the slumming in glee. Yes, "slumming," for what other term ought to be used when even a relatively small and backward burg such as Lima had many far superior outlets for her to develop her talents. Unless, of course, there was something special about McKinley's show choir that had attracted her. Will wasn't proud of the conceit implicit in his even having that thought.

Her other faults, and there were many, did not represent fundamental contradictions. Was she ambitious, egotistical, self-centered, demanding, annoying, pushy and a whole long list of pejoratives one could find in a good thesaurus? Oh yes she was, but at least those characteristics would stand her in good stead if she wanted a successful career in showbiz. But when all was said and done and Rachel's assets and liabilities were weighed on Will's scales of human value, on this day, given a choice among all the people he knew with whom to spend eight hours walking in the park, it would be Rachel, and there was no close second. He parked his jalopy around 11;15, checked out his handsome sleek self in the reflection of the store's window, and prowled through the door like a cheetah, looking for and hoping like hell to see Rachel Berry.


	5. Groman's Music

Rachel didn't seem to be among the twenty or so people milling about _Groman's Music _on a fairly busy Saturday morning, so Will, disappointed, drifted to the back wall where the music scores were stacked. He noticed a young woman, her back toward him, talking to a college student type manning the register. She was wearing a short white dress that skimmed seductively around her ass and hips, and her heels highlighted the toned muscles in her calves and lower hamstrings. She was short, but her updo revealed a long and lovely neck that enhanced her stature and made the smiling young male clerk look as though he very much wanted to lean across the counter and kiss it repeatedly. As she spoke, the other store personnel came up to greet her, as did several of the patrons.

The way she held and moved her arms, the way she positioned her legs, the bends of her knees, the slopes of her shoulders and tilts of her head suggested an animal at ease in its native habitat. (Will was certain that if the staff had been all-female, given the frequency of his appearances at the establishment, he might have been accorded similar treatment. He was probably right, but as they weren't, he wasn't.) Then the young woman turned her head to present her profile to a visibly stunned William Schuester, now teacher of Spanish and choir director at William McKinley High School, but soon, he suddenly feared, to be practicing accountancy and having to live more than a mile from the nearest school or place of worship.

Will at last had the answer to the enigma that was Rachel Berry: there were two of her, each adapting as well as she could to the environment that was presented. "My god," was the phrase that echoed back and forth through the cavern of his mind. When she turned fully toward him and caught his glance, her smile evanesced as they gazed solemnly at each other across a crowded room. On this enchanted May morning, Will and the essential Rachel were indeed strangers, destined to meet if ever either of them were able to physically move. Rachel, the more comfortable and confident with home field advantage, took the initiative and walked toward a still immobile Will, holding his eyes continuously in the grip of her gaze, looked up at him when the distance between her nipples and his abs was at the edge of indecency for the meeting of a teacher and his student in a public space where both were habitués, and said "Hi" in a voice barely above a whisper, the entire sound produced by a soft expulsion of air that was most commonly heard in the bedroom when a woman greeted her lover after recovering from a massive orgasm.

Aside from the sensuousness of the sound, the most telling part of Rachel's greeting was what was missing, what Will recognized immediately as conveying the possibility of a different relationship between them. Two words were missing, two words she always used when first meeting him on a school day: "Mister Schue." Take away those two words and the official hierarchy that separated them vanished and now anything could be said and anything could happen.

Will curled up his fingers in both hands in an attempt to control an overwhelming desire to reach out and touch her face. Nothing, however, was able to prevent him from smiling nervously and offering the understatement of "You look wonderful."

"Thanks," she said, her right hand very lightly squeezing his bare left arm just above his wrist watch, causing his eyes to close for an instant and his lips to slightly part. Rachel understood how much he had risked with "wonderful" and after watching his reaction in the brief instant of her touch, she lowered her head for a moment to lick the middle of her upper lip. They then both took a step back, simultaneously realizing how close they were getting to making a very dangerous public spectacle, and began a surreal dance. They slow-waltzed to music only they could hear, as though they were listening via earbud pairs to the same iPod, circling, moving, afraid and unable to stand still, talking of songs, of medleys, of mashups, of arrangements, of key transpositions, of solo line assignments, of choreography, seeing themselves in a French movie with subtitles and in soft focus, until Rachel, feeling almost unable to breathe, sat down on a piano bench and said to her partner when he joined her, "What's happening, Will?"

The question contained its own answer. When she had deliberately neglected the "Mister Schue," Rachel had left a void, which she now filled with "Will," the first time she had ever addressed him by that name. He grasped the significance of that choice, and responded to her question with the only answer he could imagine that was both truthful and meaningful: "We're falling in love."

"Yes."

"What do you want to do now?"

"I need fresh air. I need to go outside."

He followed her out. They shuffled about anxiously on the sidewalk for a bit, neither sure what to say or do, when Rachel suggested going for a walk in nearby Faurot Park.

"I'd like that."

"We'd better go in our own cars, though."

"You're right. Too many people here know who both of us are."

"Actually, I was more concerned that I might have tried to unzip your pants at the first stoplight."

Will burst into sustained laughter, falling back against the wall and giggling until he was able to calm down after a few minutes. The extent of his reaction resulted from the release of the unbearable tension that had built up, and Rachel laughed and giggled with him, happier than she had ever been with a man, but didn't think the moment was quite right to tell him she hadn't in fact been joking.


	6. Into the Faurot Park Woods

They drove one behind the other to the Faurot Park lake across from the baseball diamond. Will got out, opened Rachel's door, took the hand she held out for assistance and kissed the back of it for five seconds with his eyes closed. Rachel had switched the heels back to the flats, and took only the red grapes out of the picnic basket. They stood motionless facing each other, not touching.

Rachel explained quietly, staring at his muscled chest, "I suggested we come here because I _knew_ it would be crowded and wanted to gather myself in the open air with the danger of discovery preventing me from uncontrollable public displays of affection. When you kissed my hand just now I realized telling me we were live on national TV might not guarantee my behavior. So let's each slowly digest a grape at a time until we can get to the safety of those trees above the lake." She handed him a single grape and took one herself, allowing it to sit on her tongue.

Will, now regretting the choice of _tight_ jeans to fake his youth, chuckled and asked, "Have you done this before, I mean the grape bit?"

"Are you calling me a fruit slut?" punching his stomach.

"Do you think anyone would notice if I kissed your face for an hour while we stood right here?"

"We need to get to the fucking trees."

The giving, receiving, and eating of a single grape at a time kept their hands and mouths busy and out of trouble. They walked through the Saturday crowd with a casual, unhurried air, like clever bank robbers who had the loot but didn't want to draw attention to themselves as they made their getaway. Soon into the shade of the woods they stole, Will taking the hand that had tossed the remaining grapes and running with her to a secluded grove where, leaning against an oak, he welcomed her into his embrace. Their kisses were hard with passion, soft with love, tenderly vicious, much more than either had ever imagined. Will interrupted the romance of the tryst by placing his right palm against her left breast, which she covered with her own to increase the pressure, then drawing his thumb across her engorged nipple and sliding his hand down, down along her body until it pressed between her legs, then rose slightly with a single finger etching a deep line up her middle. Rachel's knees buckled, she let out a deep sharp breath and collapsed onto his supporting left arm. Will had never loved any woman nearly as much as he did her at that moment.

"Let me do that for _you_."

"No, I'd be useless for too long. There's much more pleasure I need to give you."

"Need?"

"Yes."

Will ran his hands up under her dress, slipped the satin panties off her ass and hips, and threw them to her feet.

"They're brand new."

Will bent down to retrieve them, pausing on the way back up to take a quick lick between her naked thighs. He stuffed the panties in his front pocket, hoping they'd help camouflage his erection on the way back to the car, assuming it would still be necessary.

"You know, some men wear those things."

"Yes, but I'm not Jesse St. James."

"You're a wicked, wicked man, Will Schuester."

"I was once a good and honorable man. Then I met you."

"Tell it to the jury."

"Actually, I may have to."

The kissing resumed, but with both of his hands now up inside her dress and on her bare ass, it was pretty much all-out frowned-upon and strictly illegal sexual passion until her second orgasm.


	7. Out of the Faurot Park Woods

"I need to sit down. You're making me weak."

Will sat down, leaning against the oak, Rachel between his legs with her back against him, enfolded by him. A peaceful quiet lay over them, interrupted only by occasional light smacks and slurps of his lips and tongue on her nape and neck and ears, and her sighs when he touched her breasts. An hour or two in Eden went by.

Another couple walked past them through the trees about twenty feet away.

"Be careful. You've been depantied, remember."

Rachel, with the hem of her dress riding very high, closed her legs, but not completely. She _wanted_ them to see so they'd be inspired to go off and find their own bliss. She wanted everyone in the world to be fucking so they'd be too busy and morally compromised to worry about whom _she_ was fucking.

"If you'd have licked my clit five more seconds they'd have heard me in Cleveland."

"That's the only reason I didn't."

"Liar. Conceited bloody liar."

"I love you, Rachel."

"I loved you first."

"What are we…" he began,

"Going to do?" she finished.

"When Tristan and Isolde drank the love potion..." he began,

"They'd already been in love, they just didn't know it. But King Mark lay in wait for them; this hypocritical society lies in wait for us," she finished with a flourish. Then, "I'm scared."

"Of what? They can't do anything to _you_."

"But they can do plenty to you, and that would be much worse for me. When I say I love you, it goes deep. It didn't just happen today. I'm not some stupid schoolgirl with a crush."

"I know that. I wouldn't be here if I thought you were. And yes, there's a risk, and yes, I could get hurt, very badly hurt. But isn't that part of it _my_ call?"

"Not completely. You don't understand how important you are and to how many people. If you go down for that reason, glee goes down, probably forever. The idiot Figgins and psychopath Sylvester will have won. Thirty years of kids would have lost. _I_ don't need it, I'm a pro. I'm there because of you. But the joy the others get, how do you replace _that_?"

Will waited a minute before finally responding. "Look, I'm not suggesting I be your date at prom. We can be careful, take trips out of town, act our roles in school. We've already been doing that."

"Not as well as you think. I've heard things. I've seen things on the walls of the girls' bathrooms. There are jealous, vengeful, vicious people out there. You can be very naïve sometimes. I was terrified at _Groman's_. I felt everyone was watching us, ready to whip out their cells and dial 911 if you so much as touched my hand. Of course I _knew_ they weren't, they didn't give a damn, but it's how I _felt_."

Will knew she was right and that he'd lost. Like everything else, a lover's intelligence could have its down side. What was worse for the moment was that she had made him love her even more.

Rachel cried when she saw the loss in his eyes. Her composure restored, she told him what she had thought about on her drive to _Groman's_.

"I go to theater camp. It might as well be called summer sex camp. I'm not a virgin. I've slept with men almost as old as you. None of them were as talented as you, none as good a person."

Compliments aside, Will wasn't all that surprised. Rachel's ability to surprise him had been diminishing rapidly of late.

"It's not the end of our world. I'll be 18 in my senior year. Then I'll be leaving Lima, and so could you. In the meantime, please don't wait. Look for someone, find someone, love someone. I don't want to steal time or chances from you. You may see me with a boy from school. Know this. There's none of them I could marry or even take with me out of Lima ."

"You're incredible, amazing, wonderful, marvelous, and maybe even a tiny bit sexy."

"Is that all?" she asked with an adoring smile. "But tell the truth, were you hoping to find me at _Groman's?_"

"Yes."

"Why today?"

"I had my first sex dream about you, about us, this morning."

"Oh, really? What took you so long? I had one about us, too, this morning. But then, I often fuck you in my dreams, and especially in my daydreams. Now give - details, a girl always wants details."

"I was lying naked on a beach. You came up, also naked, lay on top of me and took me inside you."

Rachel could now feel a very distinct hardness stirring against her ass again. She grabbed her chance, literally and figuratively, and proceeded to give him details, lots and lots of lascivious details.

"My dream of us was almost identical, except you got on top of me and fucked me very deep. But had I been in your dream, it would have gone a little differently. If you were lying naked on your back, instead of getting right on top of you, I would have knelt over you and licked and sucked your balls first and then your cock until you were going crazy and I could taste a bit of your salty cream before I put your hot wet cock into my hot wet cunt," she related lubriciously**.**

Feeling him throb, she pushed the base of her palm hard against the base of his hardon and ran it slowly up his flagpole until he saluted.

"Emma was right. You _are_ a whore, Will."

"Oh yeah? And what does that make you? You could make a dead man come."

"You a Stones fan, Will? As for me, as everyone knows, I'm a sweet, innocent virgin who has absolutely no idea what effect her ridiculously short skirts and knee socks have on teenage boys and dirty old choir directors and that no one but the hottest males in the school like. As the hottest of them all, Will Schuester, do _you_ like me? Huh? Do you like me even a little?"

"If I hadn't already taken off your panties, I would have done it now."

"And then what? Licked me, fucked me? You can't imagine how much I want that with you. And don't say you can because you want it too. You can't, believe me. But if it's any consolation, and I know it isn't, you'll be doing it to me even more now in my fantasies."

They kissed many, many more times, passionately, affectionately, reverently. As twilight approached, they got up, brushed each other off, her bare ass under her thin cotton dress reminding them that panties needed to be returned and somewhat reluctantly donned.

They left the woods and walked side-by-side, hand-in-hand, in terrible pain, back to their cars. They saw each other again on Monday.

The End.


End file.
